


Bone and Ash

by amarillogrande



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Prayer, Purgatory, Season 8, Team Free Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarillogrande/pseuds/amarillogrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean are thrown into Purgatory. They are separated, and every night, Dean prays to Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bone and Ash

“I prayed to you, Cas! Every night!”

 

 

Castiel looks down.

 

He knows.

He knows, and it hurts.

 

 

He remembers the blasting pain that sent them into Purgatory. He remembers the confusion, the stink, the heat—the horror that ripped through him once he realized where they were.

 

He remembers the fleeting glimpse of Dean’s face, filled with terror, before he disappeared.

 

 

He still had his powers in Purgatory, that was something. Castiel experimented, with the help of a couple vampires that found him moments after he landed in a sparse forest, trees shaking with the force of impact.

He still had his wings. He could move from place to place, he could still defend himself. He could still smite anything that came near him, but he felt his power, his grace shining out like a beacon, drawing every horrible thing to him, like a moth to a flame. The curse of his grace trailed death and destruction.

 

He couldn’t have stayed with Dean. He couldn't. At least, that’s what he kept repeating to himself. Because if he kept saying it, maybe he would start to believe it. That being separated from Dean would keep him safe.

 

It wasn’t until the sun—was it a sun?—had risen that he encountered his first Leviathan. And it was that Leviathan that confirmed his fear, convinced him that he had made the right choice.

 

It pinned him down, held Castiel in its tight grip, hot and meaty breath on his face. 

“Aaaaaangel, yesssss," the Leviathan hissed, an oily screech. "Could smell you a mile off. Never had angel before, but I think you’ll be deliciousssss.”

Castiel seized him by the neck and dug in with his fingers, ripping out its throat. The Leviathan twisted, screeching, and Castiel seized his blade—

One swift motion, and he cut off its head, its last screams turning into pitiful whimpers as it died. Castiel shrugged the corpse off and stood shakily, covered in its black blood.

 

He tightened his grip, wincing. The Leviathan had thrown him, his leg broken in three places. Castiel took a deep breath, and concentrated, closing his eyes. He sent out his grace, which quickly centered around the fracture, mending the bones seamlessly, painlessly.

He opened his eyes.

Another experiment. He still had the power to heal. Well. That was a relief.

 

Without it, Castiel doesn’t think he would survive this place for long.

 

 

He pauses a moment, and looks down at the blade in his hand. It's oddly crafted, taken off one of the first creatures he had killed. He squints at the handle. An ancient language—not Enochian, but similar, adorning the handle. One of the old tongues. Castiel furrows his brow, trying to decipher the words.

Oh.

 

It turns out to be a dirty joke. A rather bad one, actually.

Castiel wonders if Dean would have laughed. 

 

He has the sudden urge to fling it away from him, but he doesn't. He needs it, Castiel tells himself, still holding tight to the handle. There would be many more Leviathan to come.

 

He makes a silent vow to get rid of it at the first available opportunity, after finding a more suitable blade. The craftsmanship is shoddy, and it won’t last against the harshness of this land. And since the Leviathan are immune to angels' powers…well.

He will have to rely on cruder means of combat.

 

Castiel shakes his head, finally getting a chance to reflect on the battle inside his head. Whatever had been plaguing him, the madness, the “boatload of crazy” as Dean had so eloquently put it—

It was gone. He feels whole. He feels pure. 

Castiel shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head.

 

Perhaps this is a second chance. For whatever reason, God had given him this opportunity. Removed his afflictions and sent him into a land of abomination, to prove his worth. Prove it or die. 

He shivers, clutching the blade tight.

Castiel does not know which one he would do. All he knows is that he does not intend to leave this place.

 

The part of him, the part that still remains loyal to his Father, believes this is some sort of redemption. But the other part—the part that had been slowly losing faith, every day he had spent on Earth—that does not. The part that had led him to rebel. The part that had Dean’s fingerprints on it, molded by his influence, his refusal to take orders lying down. His strength, his fearlessness.

And as Castiel fought off six werewolves that jumped him all at once, he finally realized. He deserved this. This was his penance. It was not the will of an almighty Father. It was Castiel's redemption.

And Castiel did intend to redeem himself. But not by a punishment—not by some test set forward by God, or an angel, or any other being—

This would be Castiel’s own doing.

 

Because he deserved this. He deserved every second of danger. For all of his crimes. This would be his atonement.

But Dean.

Dean.

 

Dean didn’t deserve it.

Castiel is determined that Dean will not be punished for any of Castiel's mistakes.

 

 

Castiel discovered there was a sort of day and night here—a sluggish sun that drifted lazily across the sky, sending out a baking heat that made everything gray, black, dust. It was rancid, it was smoke, it was bone and ash and hate and every searing thing that dug straight into the fear that sat in the heart, everything that the creatures who lived there represented, horror contained in earth.

Castiel didn’t need to sleep, but he felt a kind of need to sit in a secluded place when the sky grew dark, take refuge, rest his aching bones. The monsters that lived there did not always respect this, and sometimes Castiel found himself fighting until the dawn. But most nights he was able to rest, meditate, reflect on his situation.

And it was the first night, when he was staring up at an ominous, starless sky, when Castiel first heard him.

 

_Cas?_

 

Castiel sat bolt upright, looking around warily. Had Dean found him?

 

_Cas, can you hear me?_

 

But as Castiel took in the stillness around him, the silence, only broken by the creak of trees and his own shallow breathing, he realized that Dean was praying. Praying to him.

_Cas, I don’t know if…_

 

Castiel doesn’t think it was possible, but he can hear the anguish in Dean’s voice, see it in his mind, imagine the slump of his shoulders, the tightening of his jaw, all the small reactions of the body that betrayed the emotions beneath _,_ and Castiel hates himself.

 

_I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you’re alive. But come back Cas, please. Come find me. Were you attacked? That’s why we got separated, right? I…I don’t know why you’re still gone, and I’m really trying to believe that you have a reason, but—_

 

Castiel swallows, desperately wanting to block out Dean's voice, but he can’t. If he can’t be with Dean, he has to take this. This is part of his sentence. Castiel deserves this guilt, he should know just how much he’s hurting Dean.

What kind of pain could be more cruel, more cunning than to force Castiel to listen to the prayers of the man he had abandoned?

 

 

_Cas, I’m scared._

 

 

That cuts into Castiel like a knife, and it takes all his self-control to not immediately go to Dean, to stand by his side, to whisper words of comfort, or perhaps not to speak at all, but just to be content to sit silently in each other’s presence.

_Why did you leave me, man?_

 

That’s the last thing Castiel hears that night, and it’s what haunts him in the morning, as the hollow sun slowly illuminates the space between the trees, where Castiel has spent the night in frozen silence.

 

 

The day passes in a haze, more Leviathan, more vampires, more, more, more.

Then it’s dusk, darkness settling around him like a shroud, and Castiel is afraid.

Not because of what hides in the darkness.

Because he’s afraid he will hear Dean again.

And he does.

 

_Cas?_

 

Castiel holds his head in his hands, desperately trying not to focus on the pain in that voice.

_Cas, man, please. I don’t know if you can answer, or if you can even hear me, but please. I—I can’t do this. I can't do this alone. The things I’ve seen today—I’ve fought off some nasties in my time, but this is different. I don’t think I can take much more of this. I need you. Cas. Please._

And Castiel is thankful for when it stops, the sound of sobs ringing in his ears. But whether they’re his or Dean’s, he can’t tell.

 

The days blur together, turning into weeks, months. Castiel isn’t sure. He senses time is passing, as he gets dirtier with every day, the beard on his face rough and uneven. He knows he could change this, knows he could be clean-shaven in the blink of an eye, clear the mud hanging heavy from his coat—but he doesn't even try. It's just another part of his punishment. Comfort is a luxury he does not deserve. He has not yet earned the right.

 

_Cas?_

 

It’s surprising, Dean’s mental voice. So much softer than the one he uses out loud, his tone gentler, his words brief. His persona, that gruff nature doesn’t filter through. It’s just Dean’s mind, speaking to him, his naked soul, pleading. It fills Castiel with a feeling he can’t really describe.

 

But even Dean’s prayers blur together after a while.

 

_Cas._

_Please._

_Where are you?_

_I don’t know if I can do this without you._

_Are you alive? Can you find me? Are you looking for me at all?_

And sometimes, Dean is angry.

 

_Cas, what the hell are you doing if not looking for me? I track down every trace of you I can, I’ve been interrogating all these horrible things and I—Cas, I’m getting desperate._

_I swear, when I see you, I’m going to kick your ass from here to next Tuesday._

_All these creepy-crawlies here, Cas—goddammit. I could really use you right now._

_Cas, you get your feathery ass back or so help me—_

_If you’re ignoring me, you better have a hell of an apology ready when I see you._

_I slipped up, Cas. I almost died today. It was stupid. I was stupid. I’m really…just mad at myself I guess. Mad that I could have died before telling y—well. You know._

_Stupid Angel of the Lord can’t even drop me a message to say hello. You got your wings on, Cupid?_

Sometimes, Dean just talks.

 

_Cas, it was crazy today. A whole nest of vampires. I banged up my arm pretty bad, but…I think I’ll be all right. Wish I had you to heal me up, though._

_Man, Cas I don’t know how these creatures stand it here. You’d think they’d try to break out more often._

_Cut myself shaving today. You’d think I was thirteen friggin’ years old again. Of course, not really used to Bowie knives._

_Some of the things here, man. These sons of bitches are just about as annoying as Sam sometimes. I wanted to bring that wraith back to life so I could kill it again._

_Cas, I…I feel stupid for this. For talking to some deaf wall every night, but if you—If you can hear me, it helps. It really does. To tell someone what’s been going on. What I’m going through._

_I really, really, miss cheeseburgers. We get out of here, first thing we’re doing is getting one. And I don’t care if you don’t eat, you’re getting one._

Sometimes, Dean is hopeful.

 

_Cas, I killed a vamp today. He wouldn’t tell me where you were. He said he’d seen you but wouldn’t tell me where. I’m going to look for his nest tomorrow._

_Thought I saw a star just now, but I guess it was just a trick of light. What do the stars look like from Heaven?_

_Cas, I’m looking for you. I hope you know that._

_You ever been to the beach, Cas? I think it’d be nice. We should go sometime. When we get out. You got a plan for getting out right?_

_I thought I saw you today. But it was some vamp with a stupid coat. Guess you got the same taste in clothes._

_How’s your head, Cas? You still a crazy bastard? Maybe that’s why you haven’t found me yet. Is that why? Well…when we get out, we’ll help you get better, Cas. Get you what you need._

_The Leviathan I killed today said that he was going to kill me, then “that dirty angel”. So I guess that means you’re alive. That’s good to know. Even if you can’t answer._

And sometimes, Dean breaks Castiel’s heart.

 

_Cas, I killed another today. He said you were dead. He’s lying right? Please tell me he’s lying._

_Cas, I don’t know—I don’t know if I can take this anymore. I don’t know if you’re alive, I don’t know if Sammy’s alive and I—please, Cas. Please. Gimme a sign, just—something. I need to know if you’re all right._

_Cas, my head hurts. My whole body hurts. I wish you were with me._

_Cas, I miss you._

Are these words, or feelings drifting through? All those half-formed thoughts and ideas that never materialize, emotion and light and pictures, never something that can ever truly be put into words. Castiel feels them leaking from Dean, bleeding through the cracks, the edges of his grace—Dean’s prayers mingling with his thoughts, and Castiel can’t handle the amount of information coming through. This solid wall of sensation, of aching, of everything horrible in Dean’s mind that Castiel wishes he could wash away, wishes he could remove with a snap of his fingers.

 

_Wish you were here, scared_

A flash of blue eyes, a memory _—_

_Please, no, no, don’t be dead_

A wave of pain, as Castiel sees his own head pulled under the water, when Dean thought he had lost him for good _—_

_No, Cas, no_

Disappearing, down, down, lost in black waters—

_Stay with me, goddammit_

Castiel can't breathe.

_Cas, please—_

 

_Cas._

 

The chaos stops, the turmoil of emotion halting, turning back to solid words. Castiel’s head aches.

_Cas, I—I know you’re not dead. You may not be answering, but I know you’re all right. I can just feel it._

_Cas. I, I lo—_

_Cas._

_Cas._

_Cas._

 

One night, Castiel doesn’t hear anything, and he panics.

 

Dean’s prayers are regular, like clockwork, always coming about an hour after sundown _—_ soft, but constant. Something Castiel had been getting used to. Instead of a punishment, it was now all he had to look forward to in this hellhole. To know what Dean had done that day. To know he was safe.

But now Castiel hears nothing, and he's terrified. He couldn’t find Dean, he couldn’t find him if he wasn’t praying—he would have to tear Purgatory apart to find him.

 

He flashes through, invisible, but the monsters can still sense him. He fights off a couple of Leviathan, the last one dying with a sickly squeal, when he sees something unusual through the trees. A line of smoke, rising into the starless sky.  A fire.

 

Castiel tears toward it so fast, he almost forgets to conceal himself, but as he crawls toward the dense circle of light, he hears them. There are two figures hunched by the flames, voices low as they talk. Castiel’s hand tightens on the blade he took from the Leviathan a few weeks back. Is it Dean?

He circles, until he can see their faces. It is, it is.

 

It’s Dean. He’s alive.

 

Castiel floods with a sense of relief, until he spies the thing next to him, teeth glinting in the firelight.

Castiel is shocked. A vampire?

 

It takes all of his self-control to refrain from slaying him right then and there, but something stops him. Perhaps it’s the presence of the fire, an indication of a moment of peace, or the sight of Dean’s shoulders—not tense, but relaxed in the vampire’s company. And their conversation, which Castiel could not hear before, now falling on his ears.

“I gotta be honest with you, it sounds a little too good to be true.”

 

Dean’s voice, like honey and ice, that gruff edge Castiel has heard many times, when he’s worried, when he’s trying to act tough. So different from the voice of his prayers, the voice Castiel has gotten used to. He yearns to step out from behind the trees, to soothe away that rough pitch of worry in Dean’s voice. But he can’t reveal himself. He can only listen.

The vampire’s voice is grating, a Southern twang sliding out of his mouth like a well-oiled trap. Castiel doesn’t like it.

“I know, brother. But it is. A portal. One-way ticket out.”

Castiel wants to stay, wants to make sure this vampire isn’t dangerous, but something tells him that Dean is in good hands. He has to leave this place, now, before the Leviathan that have already caught his scent get near enough to endanger Dean.

 

It hurts Castiel, that Dean has found someone else. Maybe he will no longer need to pray.

 

 

Castiel nestles up against a fallen log later that night, preparing for meditation, the limbo of not-quite-sleep, when he hears Dean, soft and clear.

_Hey, Cas. Got some good news for once._

 

Castiel’s eyes snap open. He can almost see Dean in front of him, eyes crinkling as he lets a small smile spread across his face. A smile Castiel misses desperately.

_I met a vampire here, he says there’s a way for me to get out._

Castiel can almost imagine the laugh.

_Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. But he’s different. And he knows a place. A backdoor for humans that God left in Purgatory. Benny said he’d lead me to it._

Castiel holds his breath. This is it. Dean’s way out.

_But I’m not leaving here without you._

 

Castiel swallows. The faith Dean had in him, he doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t deserve such loyalty, such complete belief. He deserves Purgatory. He doesn’t deserve Dean.

 

_You hear me, Cas? I’m not leaving without you. I’ll find you._

 

 

Castiel rises the next morning with a strange feeling clogging his chest, burning his throat. Hope tinged with sadness. Was there really a way? A way for Dean? Castiel desperately wants Dean to get out, back to safety, back to Sam. But Castiel did not intend to follow. And he knew he would not be able to convince Dean to leave him behind.

 

_It’s getting harder, Cas. I can feel myself getting tired. I don’t know if I can do this much longer. Benny helps, but he’s not you. Cas, I need you._

 

One night, the monsters find Castiel because he’s sobbing, unable to fight back the tears, because Dean’s voice is thick in his head.

_Cas, I don’t know what to do. I’m trying and trying, but I don’t understand. Why aren’t you answering? What did I do wrong?_

Castiel slays another, his face spattered with blood, his heart aching.

_I’m not gonna leave you behind, you understand me? Even if I find that portal. I’m not going through it without you, even if it means fighting off a hundred Leviathan. Please Cas, just…just come back._

The last Leviathan falls with a heavy thump. The dark sky envelops Cas like a cloud of choking fog _—_ or is it just his own cries in his throat?

 

_Cas, please._

 

Castiel is crouched at the edge of the river, cleansing his hands, briefly rubbing the dirt and sweat from his face, when he hears a voice.

 

“Cas?”

 

Castiel wonders briefly if the madness has returned, if he’s going to start hallucinating again, see Dean in his waking hours.

But something tells him otherwise. Castiel feels him.

 

It’s Dean. Not Dean’s voice from his prayers, but it’s him, it’s really him.

“Dean.”

 

His name is ripped from Castiel like a reflex, he can’t help but say it, whispered fervently, not really sure if this was real, that they were about to be reunited. He looks around as he stands, frozen by the banks of the river as Dean walks up to him.

“Cas,” he says again. Then he’s laughing, sweeping him into a warm embrace, and Castiel can't move.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.”

 

Dean is happy to see him. Castiel doesn’t understand. He abandoned him. And he knows it. Dean knows it. But he’s standing there, like nothing had ever happened, urging Castiel to come with him, through the portal.

Castiel does not expect it to come from the vampire, but he’s the one who breaches it, an accusing bite, asking him why he “bailed”, as he puts it, on Dean. And to his surprise, Dean defends him. Makes excuses for Castiel’s sake.

But Castiel can’t lie. He can’t lie to Dean.

 

Dean’s eyes are hurt, sad.

“You ran away?”

“I had to.”

 

Dean’s face has turned angry, hard.

 

“I prayed to you, Cas! Every night!”

 

 

Castiel’s voice is thick.

 

 

“I know.”

 

 


End file.
